Progress
by bellarke
Summary: 'We did what we had to do,' Bellamy says. 'Finn would be dead.'


Wassuuuup? So I kinda like the idea of Bellamy/Raven, and this if my first crack at it. Enjoy!

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_**Progress**_

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Raven tries to slam the tarp behind her on her way into the drop ship, but tarp doesn't have quite the same effect as a door and so it's a futile attempt at taking out her anger. She finds herself alone on the ground level, but she wants to be_ alone_, away from prying eyes and the not-quite silence that comes with being near people. She can't handle the whispers right now, about her, about Finn and Clarke. She heads up to the second level, but can still hear the buzz of camp. Still not good enough – can't people just shut the hell up, for once?

She tries hard to block Finn and Clarke out. She broke up with him, and it was the right thing to do. But God, it didn't hurt any less.

When she reaches the third level, she closes the hatch door behind herself and drops a heavy box on top as an added bonus. Finally alone, she throws her head back in relief and takes a deep breath. It's then that she hears him clear his throat, and she can barely contain her frustrated scowl as she turns around.

Bellamy looks back at her from where he sits, leaning back in his seat. He's relaxed – looks like he's been here a while. He's got some of Finn's maps in his hand, though they're dodgy at best. She immediately shuts thoughts of Finn down and speaks to keep them out.

'What are you doing here?' they ask one another in unison, but neither offers up an answer.

Raven rolls her eyes and wanders around, picking up trinkets from here and there; someone's thin chain, a few rocks used to carve words into the metal. There are makeshift beds there for when the weather gets really bad. Raven chooses one over in the corner and lies on her back. She has nothing but a grey ceiling to look at, and she likes it. She focuses on the colour, the number of lines, and the flaking metal from the impact of the landing. She drums a rhythm with her fingernails, one she barely notices. It's something she picked up in her trade, a way to pass the time.

'Are you going to do that all night?' Bellamy asks, and she can hear the irritation dripping in his tone.

She begrudgingly stops tapping the frame of the bed and clasps her hands together over her stomach. She clenches them hard, and when she hears Bellamy sigh a few times in a row, she sits up.

'Are you going to do _that_ all night?' she asks.

He fixes her with a look, and she knows something's up. He doesn't have many faces – they range from irritated to angry, with a dash of sarcasm in there somewhere. He thinks he's difficult to predict, hard to read, and that's why people respect him. But Raven knows about people. Growing up without a real family forced her to get to know others, ones she wouldn't necessarily trust. And her days of trading for parts or rations or moonshine… She breaks her thought again and finds him still looking at her, and she chances it.

'You're worried,' she says, swinging her legs back over the side of the bed. She half expects her raven necklace to swing down, and for her to have to catch it, but she quickly reminds herself that she took it off. That she gave it back. It's been a couple of weeks now, but she's spent a lifetime with Finn and that doesn't just go away.

'It's been quiet lately,' she says.

'That's what worries me,' he replies, looking around the room. His eyes settle on the alcove where they held the grounder, and Raven shares in his regretful look. She didn't want to hurt the guy. No scratch that; she did. She did want to hurt him.

He wanted to let Finn die.

'I don't regret why I did it,' Raven says boldly, and Bellamy looks at her. 'I regret it happened, but…' she trails off. She's trying to put an awful lot of feelings into just a few words and, honestly, she's just exhausted. The last few weeks have been hell, and it's starting to show on all of them.

'We did what we had to do,' Bellamy says. 'Finn would be dead.'

She doesn't know what to say to him. She doesn't want to talk to Bellamy Blake about her relationship – or lack thereof, now – and she doesn't want to think about Finn again. She just wants to get away from him, to forget about him. Just for a little while. Bellamy doesn't like Finn, and Finn doesn't like Bellamy, and Raven knows that it'd be so much easier on them if the other weren't around. Not least of all because of Clarke.

'You trying to get away?' he asks her suddenly, and she notices the bottle of Montyshine, as it's been dubbed, on the floor beside his seat.

He picks it up and pulls off the lid, then holds it up for the taking. Raven stands and makes her way over, slowly. She's so wary of him, of every little thing he does. She doesn't question where he leads, or what he does. At least not out loud. Clarke trusts him, and she might not be her favourite person, but Raven respects the girl.

She takes the seat next to him and the drink and takes a large swig. It burns her whole mouth and throat but she keeps drinking, because with every sip the ache in her chest is dulled just a little more. By the time the bottle's empty, both she and Bellamy are slumped back in their seats, eyes heavy with alcohol and tiredness. It's night now, and the camp has settled down. No one's come to knock on the door so far.

'I need to find bullets to make something with,' Raven slurs out, then puts her face in her hands and giggles. 'I mean… I need bullets to make something – something to make bullets with!'

Bellamy's chuckling quietly to himself over her, and he shakes his head.

'Can't let you operate under the influence,' he says firmly, but Raven just laughs. His tolerance is a little higher than hers; he's got a couple of years on her, after all.

Some time later, when they're both drowsy and in and out of sleep, someone knocks on the hatch door hard enough to rattle the box, and they keep doing it until they open it. Raven looks at Finn through narrowed eyes, more from sleep than anything else, and he looks right back, before switching his gaze to Bellamy, who's still next to her and who's shoulder her head was lolling onto.

'Patrol's messed up,' he says shortly, eyes burning a hole through Bellamy, who doesn't even seem to be listening that intently. 'People don't know what they're supposed to be doing. Clarke's already asleep.'

Raven waits for Bellamy to give the order, but when it doesn't come, she feels amused again and smirks. She looks sideways at him, but he's just looking at Finn.

'Put Miller and Tobias on for now. I'll come down in a couple of hours.'

'Why not just come down now?' Finn asks, and Raven swears it's through gritted teeth.

'Because he's not allowed to operate under the influence,' Raven answers for him, and Bellamy has trouble keeping his face straight. He just nods along.

Finn disappears through the hatch hole a moment later, muttering 'fine' and mentioning how everyone's pretty much asleep anyway. Raven's laughter fades quietly and for a while they sit in silence, each sobering a little at the thought of Finn heading back to Clarke's tent. Bellamy's not outright with his feelings – unless they're angry ones, Raven muses – but she knows there's something between their leaders. There just _is_.

'We should get to bed,' Bellamy says quietly.

Suddenly she's amused again, and she smiles. 'That's forward of you.'

He rolls his eyes and says, 'I mean back to our separate tents.' But he doesn't move out of his seat, and neither does she.

When she wakes up in the morning, she's lying on the make shift bed, and he's nowhere in sight. She notices the cup of water and ration packet on the floor by her boots, which she doesn't remember taking off. She heads down to camp and wanders through, hearing whispers here and there again, and watching people give her the pitiful look. Strangely, it doesn't matter as much now. She passes Finn on her way to the arms tent, and he says a curt good morning and she nods back, but he's not who she's looking for.

She finds Bellamy cleaning rifles, and at first she's not so sure what to say. They were nothing a couple of weeks ago; he was the leader, the Captain of the guard, and she was the mechanic that made everything work and that was it. But things were changing in camp; they were getting along, they had things to talk about, things to… bond over.

She sits next to him and starts cleaning a rifle of her own.

'Thanks for the water,' she says, and her words seems to have extra weight in the silence. She sees the corners of his mouth edge up ever so slightly, and it's something.

It's progress.

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_Leave some feedback? No bashing though, yeah? Ain't nobody got time for that._


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